


save me from myself, don't let me drown

by smileycal



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Car Accident, Depression, Gen, Hospital, Non AU, Overwhelming Thoughts, Sad, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, he just needs a way out, lukes gay, lukes in a coma, poor lukeys not very happy, their management are kinda dicks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 03:49:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7668982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smileycal/pseuds/smileycal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine. Once you repeat a lie so many times, a part of you starts to believe it. I guess I repeated those three words so many times I fooled myself. But you can't escape your own head. I was falling so fast, and yet every time I tried to stop I’d just slip even more. The bottom was approaching fast and I was crash landing. </p><p>or Luke is depressed but can't admit it to himself. He tries to kill himself after everything gets to be too much and recounts where everything went wrong from a coma.</p>
            </blockquote>





	save me from myself, don't let me drown

**Author's Note:**

> hi, i'm orla, and this is pretty much my way of getting rid of all the angst and bad thoughts that invade my brain. Hopefully it turns out alright ... if you like it and you're feeling nice, please leave kudos and comments? thanks :)

**inexorable: _impossible to stop or prevent_**

 

It’s a strange thing, being alive. You go through each day walking, talking and simply being without much thought as to what’s going on inside the trillions of cells that keep you doing just that. I mean yeah, biology class teaches us the basics, red blood cells carry oxygen, the heart pumps the blood, the nervous system is in charge of the signals. But it seems an entirely different thing to really stop and think about it. To think deeply about how you are alive right this very second. All those cells working together every millisecond to keep you alive, it seems certain something will go wrong. And things do go wrong I suppose, cancers, diseases, injuries even the most elite cells can’t heal fast enough. But looking at the general picture, every living thing seems like a miracle. Perhaps, most people don’t tend to think about these things. Maybe, once you’re old enough to think these things through, society demands your focus on other things. But maybe we should appreciate ourselves more and not take every day for granted. Maybe, if I’d have had these thoughts earlier I wouldn’t be in this situation? And yet, what is the word again….inevitability … Perhaps not. One worrying thing I have noticed is how far away some things seem now. Certain words, people… they seem so distant, as though I’m not one of them anymore. It’s like I’m already dead, gone from the world I know, never to return.

No, I have to stop now. One rule of being in a coma is that you don’t think about death. You think, sure, the only thing you have left is your own, terrifying thoughts, but death is a no-no. It seems almost ironic now, that what you want for so long is suddenly what you dread most, but I was never good at thinking things through. I lived off split second decisions. Maybe that’s how everything started, not thinking through everything that could go wrong. But it’s also the reason I’m stuck in this mess now. Another thing about comas, I’ve found that the strangest thoughts surface when there’s nowhere else for them to go. Memories hidden so deep down in the layers of your mind drag themselves to the surface when you can no longer hide from them. While conscious, there was always something to do, something to distract from the things that would struggle to create themselves inside your own head. But you can’t hide from yourself forever it seems. Eventually, all things will come to the surface, whether dragged by the stormy currents or brought to the light by a gentle hand. I’ll call myself Storm Luke, for after all I was my own destruction.

I was never one known to think deeply. Calum was always seen as the thinker. He was the one credited with connecting on another level. And Ashton was the more spiritual one. He would come out with the deepest, strangest things. But that was fine, because he was Ashton. He was comfortable delving into the depths of unknown. And Michael, he wasn’t afraid of anything it seemed. He would raise awareness and talk about the things I was always too scared to discuss. I, on the other hand, was the known partier. The youngest one, the irresponsible one, the one who ‘didn’t care’. I’d read the headlines, I knew what people thought. Yes, I am the youngest and perhaps I’m not as responsible as Ash, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care. In fact, I care too much and that’s not necessarily a good quality for someone catapulted to worldwide fame. Music is everything I am, everything I ever will be. I always wanted to be in a band and for people to know my name. I still do, I just don’t want the things that come alongside it - the constant hate, the pressure to never do anything wrong, to be a perfect role model for thousands of people. After a while, it wears even the strongest down, and I wasn’t exactly steady to begin with.

It started out innocently enough. Everyone wants to have a good time, so partying was a perfect way out. But soon, I figured something out. Partying means alcohol. And alcohol means forgetting. It built the walls between me and the thoughts that I tried to hide from for so long. It seemed like such a perfect way out of the life I’d come to dread, until it wasn’t. Alcohol means lower inhibitions. It means more press, which means more hate, which means more thoughts I needed to hide from. I’d fallen into a constant loop of self hatred, self fear, and the thoughts still didn’t go away. People noticed, most importantly the boys noticed. They asked me what was wrong, but how was I to explain that I was afraid of myself. So I told them I was fine. The lies built up. “What’s gotten into you Luke?”. The same question, over and over. The fans would ask it, the press would ask it, management started to ask it, the boys got sick of what I’d become and asked it, and finally, on the day everything went wrong, my family asked it.

I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine. Once you repeat a lie so many times, a part of you starts to believe it. I guess I repeated those three words so many times I fooled myself. Not everyone was so easily mislead though. Everything only got worse. “You look so tired, are you getting enough sleep?” one well-meaning interviewer asked. (I’m so tired, just not in the way you’re asking.) “You need to get a hold of yourself or you’ll ruin everything,” a management official had told me not so bluntly after a meeting. (I always ruin everything. I’m not worth the trouble.) I was falling so fast, and yet every time I tried to stop I’d just slip even more. Rock bottom was approaching fast and I was crash landing.

Finally, management had enough, and sent us home to ‘spend time with our families’. Everyone knew it was to get me out of the spotlight before I could do more damage and it was probably the first thing I’d agreed with them on. It seemed a known fact that I wasn’t particularly fond of our management company, none of us were. They always seemed to go out of their way to do, in my opinion, the wrong thing. When they’d somehow found out about my sexuality - not my decision trust me - they’d given me a fake girlfriend to “hide the gayness”. Because how could one of their biggest money makers have a gay band member when their highest source of income was girls! When press coverage was low, they created a false story to bring attention back to us. It was all about the money to management, when all I cared about was the music. It infuriated me.

Home was supposed to help me. Give me some time to think, to be alone. It would’ve been a good idea to someone who saw my actions as an “act” and nothing more, but time alone with my thoughts was something I most certainly did not need. Quickly, they seized control. I couldn’t escape everything I’d tried to hide from for so long. They gained magnitude until the night everything went wrong. I’d been distant from my family ever since I got back. I knew they must have seen me the way I knew the world saw me, as a boy who let fame get to their head. But they didn’t know the truth. No one did. I was scared to face them, to face the people who I couldn’t stand loosing. I tried to put it off, until they finally got sick of me, like everyone does. They tried to help, they really did. But how was I to tell them things I couldn’t even tell myself. How could I explain the repressed emotions that had built up over years. I’d built a dam and I wasn’t about to let it leak. I’d broken down. I tried so hard not to tell them anything, but they probably figured out more than I wanted them to. I got defensive, angry and they did too. There was yelling, I can’t remember exactly what happened, like I said, everything’s fading too quickly. I remember one thing though. I don’t know if I ever will. It’s my worst fear come true. They told me to leave. They said if I was going to act like this, then I should go. So I did. I don’t remember how, but I ended up in my dad’s beat up old car. It wasn’t worth a thing and he always said he meant to take it to the scrapyard but he never did. He never drove it anymore, it just sat in the garage, gaining dust.

But then, there I was, speeding down the road, the old engine groaning in the background and tears blurring my vision. Everything was surfacing and I couldn’t stop it anymore. The dam broke and the water surged forward, destroying everything in it’s path. I was a witness my own destruction. No, I was my own destruction. The road wound on. We lived a ways out of Sydney and outside even the local town where the other boys lived, so there was nothing around to stop me. I sped up even more, needing to feel something, anything. But everything was dulled. I felt nothing and yet I felt too much. I wished for some alcohol, for anything to pull me back to a safer non-reality. But I’d been sober ever since I got back, my parents, in an attempt to help had made sure of that. Everything was going too fast and I couldn’t think straight. And then suddenly, in a moment of clarity, I decided. I knew, finally, I knew. I needed it to end. Finally, I could be in control. It’s the split second decision that ruined everything.

I took a deep breathe and gripping tightly to the steering wheel, swerved the car straight off the road.


End file.
